


The Widows

by jemmasimmns (laurellance)



Series: Dominos, Dominos. [2]
Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurellance/pseuds/jemmasimmns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The widows strike fear into the hearts of the masses, both metaphorically and physically. </p><p>(Second person, jumpy narrative)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Widows

**_i._ **

 

They say that post-faction revolution, you can see the widows. 

 

The widows, or so urban myth says.  

 

**_ii._ **

 

The widows, the myths whisper. The widows, striving to avenge their lost loves. Loves, that were lost in the revolution. The widows, they whisper in fear. 

 

They strike fear into the newcomers, the ones from the foreign government. They strike an irrational fear into the hearts of the Erudite, for the fear they widows are just as powerful their hold on government. The dauntless, sneer all they may, are impressed. For they are most commonly seen among the railroads, jumping from train to train, to the centre of tracks. The amity, unconcerned. The candour, for despite their bravado- fear them. They uphold law, and the widows threaten their ability to deliver it. The abnegation, nonchalant. They do not care, for they do not bother the factionless.  

 

**_iii._ **

 

When people talk about the factions, they always forget the factionless. The factionless, who were the backbone of the factions. Who still are the backbone of this society. 

 

The widows arose from the factionless. 

 

**_iv._ **

 

Actually, that's not quite the truth. They were born within the faction system, but left it. One by choice, the other forced. Dauntless initiation is harsh, and they know it.  

 

One, left for her boyfriend. Last in her class, she chooses to leave with dignity. Dignity, of course, being kicking Eric in his balls for calling her boyfriend a one-eyed cripple. The only recollection she has at this point of her dauntless initiation is to never admit defeat, not anymore. She still lives in denial of his death, even now. Her pride, dignity holds her back; but it is also her saving grace. She knows that no matter what, her admittance will kill her, ruin her. So she lives in happy denial, evading the truth at every turn. So she jumps trains like she runs from her guilt. 

 

The other leaves, for she has no other choice.  With her carrot haired companion, she leaves in search of a home. She loses him then, and she leaves. The first follows, out of desperateness.

 

**_v._ **

 

They stay together, and neither know why. The first, slimmer than her companion, steers and directs. She knows how to guide, lead. Experience guides her, as she rambles on to the other of what to do. The other is used to being told what to do, as long as what the other tells her to do is reasonable. They all are, and it is through this bond that they survive. 

 

**_vi._ **

 

One day, the first guides her companion to a location they've ever never been to before. Trust me, she says, in a tone that is weary and older, older than her age suggests. She has experienced tragedy, heartache, and it is her sheer willpower that keeps her from collapsing. 

 

She leads them into the train yard. C'mon, she says quietly- almost as if this is the most she can manage. C'mere Molls. She leads the other to a conductor station, in the centre of the train yard. Opening the door, she cracks open one of the floorboards. Pulling a sketchbook out, she uses her shirt to wipe the gathering dust off. _Can I trust you_ , she asks. Her tone is quiet, yet restrained. The companion can tell, she is fighting to hold herself together. She nods once, and that is more than enough. 

 

_You can trust me._

 

**_vii._ **

 

That is the basis of their beautiful friendship. 

 

**_viii._ **

 

The revolution comes. It comes hastily, quickly. They run for their lives, not even bothering to fight. The taller, slimmer girl's ability to run is what saves their lives. Only this time, it is not her guilt she runs from but chaos. 

 

They survive on that alone. 

 

**_ix._ **

 

When the revolution ends and the truth comes out, it is the follower that reacts first. She laughs, laughs. The hysterics are obvious, and it is completely justified. As the people react and chaos erupts, she laughs. 

 

The other, taller one, digs a gun up from the rubble. She fires it towards the sky. The silence is almost deadly. The people whisper amongst themselves, and this is where the myth begins. They only see silhouettes, shadows. This is where the fear begins, where it starts. 

 

**_x._ **

 

It is the widows that restore order to the city. It is the threat, the fear of them that pulls the people together.

 

**_xi._ **

 

The years, and over time, myth becomes legend.

 

They inspire art, literature, and much much more. The erudite strengthen their hold on government, the dauntless applaud them. The candour, forget.

 

**_xii._ **

 

The factionless remember them as people, just trying to survive. 

 

**_xiii._ **

 

Legends are often tested, tested by doubters. Over time, some stop believing in them, move on.  Others continue, but they will never be forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how to feel about this piece. It's not one of my best. :/


End file.
